


Convergence

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Season/Series 02, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-05
Updated: 2005-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series Buffy and Spike have a surprising meeting...in season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://teenes.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://teenes.livejournal.com/)**teenes** for the beta job. Written for the Spuffy Kinkathon
> 
>  **You Are Writing For:** [](http://shipperx.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shipperx.livejournal.com/)**shipperx**  
>  **The Kink** : Time travel-- specifically, souled Spike sent back in time to BtVS Season 2  
>  **Three other requests:** During the Angelus period of Season 2, Post-NFA Spike, Giles actually curious about Spike's soul  
>  **Up to two restrictions:** None.  
>  **Rating preference:** PG through NC-17 okay... but probably not NC-17 since Buffy is pretty much jailbait in Season 2 (or should have been). If there's anyway to bring an older version of Buffy into Season 2 as well, feel free to go as NC-17 as you want.

The portal flared white around him before disappearing with a hiss and snap. Spike barely had time to register that he was falling before he hit the ground painfully. Rolling over onto his back with a groan, he squinted at the room around him.

He was in the middle of a large open space, surrounded by columns of bookshelves which hugged the walls and cast deep shadows into the corners of the room. It seemed as if blind luck had prevented him from crashing into the table that was covered with old books and scrolls. Moonlight entered through windows set high in one of the walls, and a thin stream of artificial light shone from beneath a set of heavy double doors at the opposite end of the room. Pushing himself to his feet, Spike scuffed his boots on the faded linoleum and sniffed the air, suppressing a shiver at the familiar smells. He'd only been in the building once before, and never in this room, but it was enough to trigger old memories.

Sunnydale High School, version 1.0. The library, if Angel's source was reliable, although that was hardly a given. The wizard in question had been in the employ of Wolfram & Hart, working in the Department of Temporal Paradox Resolution, and he was one of a handful of survivors that Angel kept a close eye on after the L.A. branch had been destroyed. Digging into his pocket, Spike pulled out an old-fashioned pocket-watch and flipped the lid open. It functioned more as an elaborate timer than a normal timepiece, the tapered second hand sweeping around the face of the dial as the minute hand marked off time in a slow countdown to zero. Thirty hours and counting, and then he was back where he belonged. Time to get out, get what he came for, and get back before anyone saw him. Easy enough, right?

Unfortunately, his life had never been that easy.

A sudden burst of conversation outside the doors roused him from his speculation, and he bit back a curse, scanning the room for a quick escape. He was wondering whether he'd be able to get to the barred windows in time when the doors swung open and he was forced to dive behind a tall counter that ran the length of the room. "Balls," he muttered quietly, pressing his back tightly against the counter as three sets of footsteps entered the room. A female voice grunted, and he heard the sound of a pile of books hitting the table.

"That's it for me," the voice said with a groan, and he recognized Willow. "How about the big, guy-shaped Watcher and the girl with the superpowers handle the rest of them?"

"I do appreciate the help," a male voice said, and Spike clenched his jaw. Of course. He'd expected Giles to be hanging around the place, although he thought he'd timed it properly so that everyone would be gone for the day. Didn't these people have lives? He froze when he heard the third voice speak.

"That's it for me too. I promised my mom I'd be home on time tonight." Buffy. God, it was Buffy. "Unless you want us to help you catalog them?" Her voice was teasing, and Spike's heart clenched in his chest at the light-hearted tone. It had been over two years since he'd heard the sound of her voice. He had known that there was a distinct possibility that he would run into her, but he hadn't prepared himself for the rush of emotions that would erupt simply from hearing her speak.

"Thank you, no," Giles said darkly. "The last time you attempted to assist me, I found doodles in the margins of the Gendarum Codex."

"Well, it serves you right for giving me ones without any good pictures in them," Buffy muttered sulkily in reply. "Besides, I've got a paper to finish anyway."

"Of course," Giles said. "I'll give you both a ride home."

"Right behind you," Buffy answered.

Spike heard the sound of the doors swinging open, and listened as footsteps walked away. He let out a silent sigh of relief as they faded into the distance. That had been too close. Angel and his pet wizard had clearly gotten the times wrong somehow, and Spike rolled his eyes in annoyance. He waited behind the counter for several more minutes, partially distracted by the crushing speech he was composing in his head to deliver to Angel as soon as he got back. Finally, he stepped cautiously out onto the main floor. He was about to bolt for the exit when he froze for a second time. He could hear a heartbeat.

Spike had one moment to curse himself for his stupidity before he was knocked sprawling onto the floor. He rolled quickly to his back, but before he could get up, Buffy had knelt down next to him, one hand on his throat and the other holding a stake pressed tightly to his chest. He gasped, doing his best to relax his muscles and appear as nonthreatening as possible.

"Spike," she said in disgust. "What, dropping an organ on you wasn't enough? Anyone ever tell you you're just like a cockroach?"

"Buffy," he breathed cautiously. Even in the middle of such a perilous situation, he couldn't help but stare at her. She smelled of lotion and girl-sweat, her sharp nails digging into the skin of his neck and her eyes hard in her soft teenaged face. She was so different than the Buffy he had come to know -- younger and curvier, and only a hint in her eyes of the burdens she would have to carry over the years -- but at the same time she was achingly similar. He had to force himself to remember who she was to him. _This is the Slayer. She is your enemy. She hates you._ "I can explain," he tried, but was choked off when she tightened her fingers around his throat. She frowned at him and dug the stake more sharply into the skin of his chest.

"Sorry, you don't get to make explanations," she said coldly, raising the stake. Spike took the opportunity to wrench her other hand free from his neck, squirming away as she dove for him with the stake. Rising to his feet, he placed himself in a defensive position, circling Buffy warily and inching toward the doors.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said slowly. "Now, be a good little Slayer. You go your way, and I'll go mine."

"And let you go out and find your dinner? I don't think so." Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts were heaving. She looked magnificent, and Spike had to tear his eyes away from her figure. _Wake up, you idiot. This one will dust you as soon as look at you. She's not your Buffy. Not yet._ Sensing his distraction, she aimed a kick at his head. He blocked it and swung his arm at her, cracking her across the cheek and knocking her to the floor. He winced as she hit the ground, the stake skittering off across the floor.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, instinctively going to help her up. Swinging out with her leg, she caught him at the ankles and knocked him back to the ground next to her, climbing on top of him and squeezing one of her hands around his throat again. Raising her other arm, she let a fist fly at his nose. He caught it in his hand, pushing up and bucking his torso so that she flew over his head, landing with a thud. He rolled to his feet, careful to keep his distance this time.

"I told you, I don't want to hurt you," he said in exasperation.

"Oh, please," she scoffed in reply, standing up and raising her head defiantly. "You haven't even come close to hurting me."

The words were a punch in the gut. Shaking his head slowly, he edged away from her and towards the door, ready to end this confrontation once and for all, before one of them really got hurt. Although she still held her body in the correct position to strike a blow, she was looking at him curiously, a small frown on her face.

"What were you doing in here?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Nothing. The usual. You know, being the Big Bad and all that." He had to get out of here. Seeing her like this was too much, and once more he silently cursed Angel for talking him into this job. Buffy was advancing on him slowly, the frown still in place, and he wheeled around and made a break for the library doors. He was almost free when Buffy dove and landed on him like a ton of bricks, sending them both spilling out into the hallway. She had the stake in her hand again, and after a brief struggle, Spike managed to knock it free. He was about to kick her to the side and run out when he felt the tip of a sharp blade digging into the side of his throat. Angling his head, he saw Giles glaring at him and holding a long sword to his neck. Behind Giles, a pale, wide-eyed Willow was aiming a crossbow at his chest. As he froze, Buffy wiggled free and snatched the stake up, holding it firmly against his back.

"Wait, Buffy," Giles said sharply. "Take him to the cage."

Buffy yanked Spike's hair back, digging the stake into his back as he gasped. "Why?" she demanded. "Him vampire, me Slayer. I'm not a zookeeper."

"Information," Giles said calmly, his eyes never leaving Spike. "He can provide us with the current location of..."

"Angel," Buffy said softly behind him, and Spike's heart wrenched at the pain in her voice. Even so, he couldn't let himself get caught up in her life here.

"Look," he said, holding Giles' eyes, "I know you think you know who I am. But I'm not him. I was sent...I'm here to help."

"Who sent you?" Giles asked, and Spike tightened his mouth and shook his head. He couldn't very well let them know that Angel was behind his little trip. Giles' eyes hardened, and he gestured towards the library doors. "Back inside," he said. "One wrong step, and I let Buffy stake you."

Shaking his head in disgust, Spike let himself be herded back into the library and shoved in a roomy cage in a corner that he hadn't noticed before. As the door was locked shut, he thumped his head against the bars in despair and snuck a quick look at his pocket-watch. Just over twenty-nine hours left.

**********

The next few hours passed slowly for Spike. After a hushed discussion and a hurried phone call, Cordelia had arrived and taken Buffy and Willow with her, leaving Giles behind to guard Spike. Giles settled himself in one of the chairs at the long table, crossbow within easy reach, and gave Spike an unreadable look.

"So. It's my understanding that for many years you were the companion of Angelus. He is your Sire?"

Spike hadn't been planning on answering any questions, but he couldn't resist letting out a snort. "Him? Like hell." He kicked at the bars of his cage and groaned with impatience. "Look, could you get on with whatever you've got planned? I have places to be."

Giles raised his eyebrows. "If you think I'm letting you just walk out of here, you're sadly mistaken." He smiled coldly. "Sunrise is in approximately nine hours. It would be in your best interest to assist us."

"Or what?" Spike challenged. "You'll push me out the front doors and let all the little kiddies watch as the nasty vampire goes up in flames?"

"Hardly," Giles said dryly. "I'll simply dispose of you before any of the students arrive."

Spike shook his head. "I'm remembering why I've never much liked you," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

Spike kicked out at the bars again, but Giles didn't so much as flinch. "Look, I'm running out of time here. I told you the truth -- I'm not here to hurt any of you."

"And why should I believe you?"

Sod this. Angel and his rotten plans could go fuck themselves. Spike had only half-listened to the lectures on the dangers of altering the time-stream, but he'd be damned if he'd let this self-righteous wanker muck up the job he needed to do. He sighed, spread out his arms dramatically, and intoned, "I come to you from the future."

Giles' face twitched slightly. Spike didn't know if it was from anger, or if he was trying not to laugh. "I see," he said blandly.

Spike lowered his arms and shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. Don't know why I bothered. But it's the truth, and I'm even on your side. Trying to save the world and all that."

With a sigh, Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. "This is getting us nowhere." Reaching behind a stack of books, he pulled out a stake, a bottle of lighter fluid and a container of clear liquid that Spike assumed was holy water. "I am prepared to use whatever means necessary to find out the information I want. It is up to you how cooperative you want to be."

"Oh, this is insane," Spike growled. "Fine. I'm here from the future. I'm looking for a weapon. I'm trying to stop an apocalypse. What else do you want to know? You've got a thing for a gypsy girl, you have fairly decent taste in music for someone of your age, and you secretly like to watch 'The Simpsons'."

"I most certainly..." Giles sputtered, then hardened his voice. "This is nonsense. I want to know where Angel can be found."

"What, so you can kill past-me too?" Spike scoffed. "Not bloody likely."

Giles fingered the stake ominously. "I'll give you some time to reconsider." Holding Spike's gaze for a few more moments, he picked up a leather-covered journal and began to write in it. 

Spike groaned and let his head fall back against the wall, clenching his fists in frustration. He supposed he'd be able to kick the bars of the cage free within a couple of hours, but he didn't figure he'd get the chance with Giles sitting right there with a handy cross-bow. He was wracking his brains to try to come up with some way to convince the man that he was who he said he was. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of was to reveal the location of the warehouse where he, Dru and Angel were staying. If they saw past Spike, they'd know...except that past Spike was currently in a wheelchair, and not exactly up to a fight at the moment. Besides, even if they took his word that he was from the future, why would they believe that he was anything other than the same soulless monster they currently knew and loathed? 

He sighed in disgust. _Typical. Try to kill a person once or twice, they stop trusting you._ He supposed he couldn't exactly blame the lot of them, but it was vexing, all the same. Pulling out the pocket-watch, he surreptitiously checked the time. Twenty-eight hours left. He needed to collect what he'd come for and be back on top of the Hellmouth when the time was up, or he'd miss his ride home, and he'd be damned if he'd stay in this waste of a decade for longer than he had to. Keeping an eye on Giles, he slumped down on the floor and tried to marshal his thoughts.

After another hour had passed without Giles showing any further inclination to question or torture him, Spike was ready to scream with frustration. He was ready to make up any likely story that would get him out of the cage -- after that, he was sure he could manage to escape. The Slayer may have gotten the drop on him once, but he knew her moves. She wasn't likely to surprise him again, not if he could get thirty seconds head start on her. He was putting the finishing touches on an elaborate plan by which he promised to lead them to Angel's location, when he was distracted by the sound of booted feet approaching the library. He glanced up, but Giles didn't seem to have noticed them yet. Getting quietly to his feet, he waited as the footsteps came closer. Giles finally appeared to hear, and got to his feet right before the library doors swung open and Buffy came in. Spike blinked in shock as a cold wave passed through him.

It was _his_ Buffy.

By appearances alone, it was obvious that this Buffy was different from the Slayer who had fought with him earlier -- older, certainly, but also possessing a certain self-assured, grave maturity that was immediately familiar to him. He _knew_ it was her, beyond a shadow of a doubt. He opened his mouth, but wasn't able to make a sound. It was just as well, because so far she hadn't noticed him. Giles walked towards her with a frown.

"Buffy? I thought you'd left...." His eyes widened as his voice trailed off, and reaching behind him, he grabbed the crossbow off of the table. "Stay where you are," he said harshly.

"Giles," Buffy said quietly, "it's me. I need your help."

Giles shook his head. "You're not Buffy," he said firmly. "I don't know who you are or what game you're playing, but you're not her. Don't you think I'd recognize my own Slayer?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and smiled faintly. "You told me you'd say that. Here, take this." Digging into the pocket of the coat she was wearing, she brought out a padded envelope and tossed it to him. Giles caught it one-handed and eyed her suspiciously. "I'll stay right here," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. Giles quickly opened the envelope, pulled out a small object that Spike couldn't see from his vantage point, and stared at it in confusion.

"My ring from the Watcher's Academy," he said, then frowned. "This could easily be a replica of the one that's in my possession."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "There's more," she said, nodding at the envelope. Giles pulled out and opened a folded sheet of paper, and stared up at Buffy in shock. "How did you get a copy of my Watcher's journal?" he asked in disbelief. "More importantly, how did you get hold of an entry that I made just...." He broke off and fumbled for the leather book he'd been writing in earlier. "...ten hours ago?"

"You gave it to me," she said. "Look, I know that this is going to sound really weird, but..."

"Let me guess," Giles said faintly. "You're from the future."

"Huh," Buffy said in surprise, furrowing her brow. "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be."

"I don't suppose you've come back for a weapon of some kind?"

Buffy was starting to look suspicious now. "Well, yeah, but how did...." She broke off when Giles gestured mutely toward the cage. Turning, she frowned as she caught sight of Spike for the first time. "Spike? He's not supposed to be here now." Suddenly she froze and her eyes got wide. "Spike?" she asked quietly.

"Buffy." It came out as a croak, and he suddenly realized that his fingers were numb from being wrapped tightly around the bars of his cage. "I...you're here." All of the things he'd wanted to say, all of the speeches he'd planned over the past two years, suddenly congealed in his throat in a hard lump. He could only blink at her as she walked slowly toward the cage, eyes wide in her suddenly pale face.

"Buffy," Giles said cautiously. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Giles swing the crossbow back up into position, edging aside for a better shot.

"It's okay," Buffy said quietly, not taking her eyes away from Spike. She stopped just out of arm's reach, wrapping her arms around herself and studying Spike silently for a moment. He could do no more than stare back at her, caught in her gaze and drinking her in. After a moment she nodded slightly, as if she'd seen what she was looking for. "Do you remember the last thing I said to you?" she asked. Spike took a hitching breath and nodded.

"No you don't," he whispered. "But thanks for saying it."

Buffy dropped her head and let out a shuddering sigh. "You idiot," she said softly, but there was a slight smile at the corner of her lips. Stepping forward, she wrapped her warm hands around his, which were still tightly clenched around the bars of the cage. Spike heard Giles gasp in the background, as if from a great distance away.

"Buffy, do be careful," Giles warned. "He's tried to kill you."

"It's okay," she said again. Her voice was stronger, and her eyes, which were still fixed on Spike's face, were clear. "He has a soul."

**********

Spike sat sprawled on the floor of the cage, kicking idly at the bars while he listened to Buffy. Although Giles had agreed to hear what she had to say, he had steadfastly refused to release Spike for the time being. "You may trust him," he argued, "but I don't. Now, I'd like you to explain what it is you're looking for."

Buffy collapsed onto one of the chairs. "That's the thing," she said. "I don't know. And that's what I need your help with." When Giles blinked at her, she sighed and shot a quick glance at Spike. "I don't think I should explain too much about what's happening -- or, I guess it's what's _going_ to happen, from your point of view. But there's this demon -- Carreck -- I don't know if you've heard of it?"

"Carrex," Spike supplied. "Thoren demon. About eight feet tall, four arms, exists in several dimensions simultaneously?"

Buffy nodded. "I guess we really are here for the same thing," she murmured. Spike tried to catch her eye again, but after their initial contact, she seemed to be avoiding looking at him.

Giles frowned slightly. "The name is familiar, but..." Trailing off, he stood and headed into a small room that Spike assumed was an office, reappearing after a moment with a large bound volume. "Ah, here it is," he said, flipping through several pages. "The Thoren are one of several types of interdimensional species. Known as the reality jumpers, they are said to inhabit multiple planes of existence simultaneously. Carrex is thought to be the last of its kind." He looked at Buffy curiously. "The Thoren are not considered to be a threat, given that their existence in this reality is tenuous at best."

"That's what we thought," she said. "Turns out, though, that Carrex isn't exactly the last of his kind. See, there was this prophecy, referring to him as the Destroyer of Worlds, and no one could figure out what that meant. And then the Council discovered evidence of a second Thoren. And we have to stop them from...you know. Doing what demons do."

"Thoren are usually solitary," Spike interjected, "and they're practically immortal. They don't meet up often, what with all the dimension-jumping they do. But once every sixty million years or so, give or take a few, two of them wind up in the same place at the same time. And...nature takes its course. Can't say as I blame them, the lonely buggers."

Giles was nodding thoughtfully. "The release of energy involved would probably cause ruptures in the barriers between worlds, allowing different realities to spill into each other."

"And that? Is never a good thing," Buffy said with a slight shudder.

Spike snorted. "The last time a Thoren reunion happened, it left a big hole in Mexico and a lot fewer life forms on the planet."

"Wait a minute," Giles said in confusion. "Are you trying to tell me that the Chicxulub crater, and the subsequent extinction of the dinosaurs, were caused by _mating Thoren demons_?" At Spike's raised eyebrow, he sank down on to his seat and scrambled for a sheet of paper. "I've never heard that particular theory before," he said, scribbling frantically.

"It's not a theory," Spike shot back. "You just don't have the right sources. I talked to a fellow once who was actually there." He noticed that Buffy was trying not to smile.

"Show-off," she muttered, and he smirked at her. "Anyway," she said in a louder voice, "the prophecy said something about a weapon -- a protection of some kind -- that could keep them from getting their interdimensional happy on. The problem is, it's part of their same weird shifting reality, and the last time it was completely in our dimension was..." She looked at her watch. "...about thirty-six hours from now."

"Ah," Giles said. He looked outwardly calm, but to Spike's eye he appeared to be a little twitchy. "And the nature of this weapon?"

She shrugged. "That's why I'm here. You -- future you -- said that there was information in something called the Imbrium scrolls. Except that they were lost when...well, they were lost. But you -- _now_ you -- should still have a copy."

"Nothing to see," Spike said dismissively. "They say something about the Hellmouth, and mention the Keeper of the weapon, but they don't say exactly what it is. I figured I'd hang around the Hellmouth until this Keeper showed up." He suddenly realized that Buffy was gaping at him. "What?"

"You have a copy of the scrolls?"

"Well, yeah," he replied. "It belonged to..." He glanced over at Giles. "...the other Watcher. How else do you think I knew where to come?"

"And you didn't tell us?"

Spike shot to his feet. "Tell you what?" he demanded. "You mean, turn over information to the Council of Wankers? Because that always works out so well. In case you haven't noticed, the prophecy says the big party's gonna take place in L.A. We're taking care of it."

"We could have helped," she said angrily.

"What, like the last time you lot helped out in a pinch? Oh, and thanks ever so for that, by the way," he said sarcastically. It was a low blow, and he knew it. Buffy flinched.

"I didn't know about that until too late," she said fiercely. "I would have come."

He sighed. "I know," he said apologetically. "Just...lost some good people in that fight."

"I understand," she said softly. "And yet here you are. You and Angel are still fighting the good fight."

"Just a minute," Giles said, his voice hard and tight. Spike had almost forgotten that he was still in the room. "You work with Angel? And you expect me to trust you?" Spike sighed.

"He's not the same," he explained, more patiently than he felt. "Well, he can still be a right poncy bastard when the mood takes him, but he's all souled up again and safe as houses."

"Then...his soul can be returned to him?" He looked over at Buffy, who nodded but wouldn't meet his eyes. "And you have a soul as well?" he asked coldly, turning back to Spike. "How long until you lose yours?"

"Oh, please," Spike scoffed. "You think I'd get myself one of those second-rate jobs? Mine's not going anywhere, thank you very much."

"He's telling the truth," Buffy said quietly, still looking at the floor. "It wasn't a curse. He fought for it."

Giles collapsed back against his chair, rubbing his forehead. "You fought for it," he said blankly. "If you don't mind my asking, what in the world possessed you to fight for a soul? I would have thought that everything in your nature would rebel against it."

Spike glanced over at Buffy, but she wouldn't look at him. It was almost easier that way. "It seemed the thing to do," he said roughly. "Had to change. Couldn't go on the same way, not after I hurt someone I..." he choked off and swallowed hard. The words seemed to be stuck in his throat, forced out reluctantly. This was private, his business, and he suddenly resented having to explain himself to the Watcher in front of _her_. "Can't say that I really knew what I was getting myself in for," he continued. "And I can't say the crushing loads of guilt were much fun either."

Giles had tossed his glasses onto the table, and was rubbing his face in his hands. He finally let out a bark of laughter. "A vampire who fights for a soul," he said with a twisted smile. "Quite unprecedented, I have to say." He suddenly looked over at Buffy sharply, and his smile faded. "My God. You did it for her." It wasn't a question, and his face was entirely unreadable. "Buffy?" he asked carefully.

Buffy finally raised her head, pale and defiant, looking Giles in the face without blinking. "Spike is an ally," she said firmly, with just a trace of tremor in her voice. "He's a champion. Beyond that? None of your business."

Giles' face flushed, and his mouth tightened. "I can see that some things haven't changed," he said in a clipped voice. He straightened up and glanced over at the wall clock, which was showing the hour as just past midnight. Tossing a set of keys to Buffy, he gestured at the cage. "You'd better come with me."

**********

Buffy wasted no time in releasing Spike, although she refused to touch him and barely looked at him. Spike, swallowing the hurt and frustration, followed her out to Giles' tiny car. The drive was a silent one, and Spike stared unseeingly at the darkened streets around him. It was surreal, knowing that there was another version of himself running around out there. _Sitting on my ass out there, more like,_ he thought moodily.

"Why you?" Giles asked as they turned into his apartment complex, finally breaking the silence. It took Spike a minute to realize that Giles was speaking to him.

"You mean, why did I come?" he asked, and Giles nodded. "Somebody had to," he said with a shrug. "Not exactly looking forward to getting my home turned into a hole in the ground. Angel wanted to come, but...thought he should stay away. With himself on the loose right now? No use getting staked as Angelus as soon as he popped in."

At the door of his apartment, Giles hesitated. "I would never put you in danger," Buffy said, and after a moment he nodded.

"Come in, Spike," he said reluctantly. As Spike prowled around the main floor, poking through his music collection, Giles disappeared upstairs with Buffy. Spike didn't need to hear them to know that they were discussing him, so he ignored them as best he could in favor of snooping through the library. When they reappeared, Giles was carrying a small bag.

"I think, in light of everything, it's best that the two of you stay here for the time being," he said. "I'm going back to the school to keep an eye on the Hellmouth, in case this Keeper arrives early. You should avoid all contact with anyone else in this time, particularly your other selves. There's no telling what drastic changes in the time-stream could result from a simple encounter."

"We'll start to fade away and disappear," Buffy declared matter-of-factly, and Giles frowned curiously at her.

"Are you speaking of Greene's theory of time travel? Because that's certainly a unique interpretation...."

"The Michael J. Fox theory, actually." She blinked innocently, giving a little smirk. "What? I've seen _Back to the Future_ a bunch of times." Giles groaned, but he couldn't hide the twinkle in his eyes.

"That settles it," he said firmly. "You're staying here until we have a better handle on what's going on." He grabbed a series of books from the shelves. "The Imbrium scrolls, you said? I can do a little research and report back to you later in the morning." Removing three books from the stack, he handed them to Buffy. "In the meantime, you should take a look at these. I don't know if you have access to these compendiums, but they may prove helpful." He hesitated, glancing over at Spike.

"We'll be fine," Buffy said firmly. "I promise he won't do anything worse than raid your fridge. And if he gives me any trouble...well, I happen to know where the chains are, and I know he'll be very comfortable in the bathtub." She smiled sweetly at Spike.

"Hey!"

Giles sighed. "Right. As if this day could possibly get any stranger." Hefting the books, he gave one more warning glance at Spike and disappeared, locking the front door behind him. Spike groaned in relief.

"Well, that's done. And a rather neat bit of work too, having the Watcher do some of the leg-work. In the meantime, looks like we have the place to ourselves." He tried out a leer, but it fell flat. Buffy was standing by the door, her arms wrapped protectively around herself.

"So," she said quietly, "anything you want to talk about?"

Damn. "Like what?" he asked innocently.

"Oh, I don't know." She began to pace, grabbing a stake from a nearby table and twirling it distractedly. "Maybe about what you've been doing for the past two years?"

"You know, this and that," he said vaguely, watching her warily. She sighed and collapsed on the couch, and after a moment he joined her.

"I found out, after the battle in L.A.," she said, staring unseeingly at the far wall. "You'd been around the entire time. Giles knew it, Dawn knew it, even _Andrew_ knew it. But for some reason? No one bothered to tell me. And then all of a sudden, it's, 'Oh, Buffy, there was a big battle against the forces of evil, and you missed it. But Angel's okay, and hey, so is Spike.'" She laughed bitterly. "I was so angry with you. I thought we had...I thought there was a connection there. I felt it. I thought you did too. Looks like I made a mistake." She started to get up, but Spike grabbed her arm and hauled her down next to him.

"You didn't," he said firmly, but she merely sighed and looked away.

"Are you sure?" she asked dully. "Because it seems like it to me. When you care about someone, it's kinda nice to find out that they're _not_ really most sincerely dead after all." Spike reached tentatively for her shoulder, tracing the muscles in her neck gently and feeling her heart beat under his fingertips before she tensed and pulled away.

"Buffy," he began helplessly, but she shook her head.

"You know what? I don't think I want to go through this right now. We have a job to do." Grabbing one of the books that Giles had left on the side table, she started flipping through it. She was absolutely right, of course, but he couldn't stop staring at her. He saw his own hand reach out and touch her neck again, almost as if he was watching someone else perform the action. She held herself perfectly still as he turned her chin toward him, gently cupping her face in his hands and running his thumbs over her cheeks. After taking a deep breath, she reached up to wrap her hands around his wrists, closing her eyes.

"I can't even tell you," he said hoarsely. "Buffy, to see you again..." he broke off and shook his head, willing her silently to look him in the eyes and somehow divine what he was trying to tell her. The sense of peace and utter _rightness_ he'd felt at seeing her again had disappeared, and it was like waking up from a beautiful dream. She was physically closer to him than she'd been for a very long time, but at the same time he felt the distance between them, and he wasn't sure if it could be bridged. The years apart had changed them, and he bleakly wondered if it was too late. _You've waited too long. You gave her up, and now she's gone._ His hands had gone numb, and he didn't resist when she pulled away from him gently.

"I'm sorry, Spike," she said softly. Taking the book with her, she disappeared upstairs and closed the door behind her.

**********

Spike spent the next few hours trying to pretend that he was absorbed in his research. In truth, however, he was utterly distracted by Buffy's presence on the floor above him. He tried to force himself to remember everything that Angel had pounded into his head about time travel, weapons and Thoren demons, but instead he caught himself holding his body in absolute stillness so he could listen to Buffy breathe.

After several hours, she came downstairs to trade books with him. They exchanged them with barely a word --

"Anything?"

"No. You?"

"Nope."

\-- and, to his surprise, she settled into an armchair and started reading again. Part of him was glad that she was back in the same room with him, but the warmth and smell of her body seriously decreased his ability to concentrate. After finding, to his disgust, that he'd been reading the same paragraph for the last half hour, he slammed the book shut and stalked outside for a smoke.

When he came back in, Buffy was talking on the phone to Giles, and she looked up and shook her head at his raised eyebrow.

"Okay," she said. "I'll check it out and get back to you." Replacing the phone, she sighed and rolled her neck on her shoulders. "Giles is having some trouble with a translation, and it looks like it's going to take a little while."

Spike shrugged. "I told you, there's nothing much interesting in those scrolls. There's a weapon, there's a Keeper, and there's a Hellmouth. Which is where we need to be, not stuck here reading like a bunch of...Watchers," he finished lamely. He was half expecting an argument, but to his continued surprise, Buffy merely nodded.

"Yeah. This isn't exactly my strong suit. There has to be something there we can do, but..." Looking over at the clock, she groaned. "It's already after six, and that means school's going to start soon. Not exactly the best place to stay inconspicuous. Plus, sunlight."

Spike hadn't even noticed the arrival of morning, but indeed, grey light was peeking in through the edges of the curtains. "Well, I can't look at another page of this garbage without my eyes crossing," he complained, making his way over to some closed cabinets in the corner. Peeking inside, he was delighted to find Giles' liquor stash. "Well, look at that," he said admiringly. "Keeps it in the same place after all. The day's starting to look more promising already." Pulling out out a bottle of whiskey, he went to check the small kitchen for anything edible.

"I'll be back," Buffy said. Before he could reply, he heard the soft thump of the front door closing. Clutching the bottle, he ducked out of the kitchen. Buffy was gone. Instantly, he felt a hot surge of rage. She had gone back to the school without him, the bitch. Giles must have said something in that phone call of his, or maybe she'd found something in one of the texts and hadn't bothered to let him know about it. _She's keeping you out of the loop. Business as usual, eh? Not that you've given her much cause to trust you._ He warred for a moment between hurt and anger, and the anger won out. Catching up a blanket that lay across the back of Giles' couch, he made for the door. He was about to step outside when a thought struck him.

 _Ally. She called you her ally. She wouldn't double-cross you -- that's not her style, not if I know Buffy._ But did he know Buffy? Two years ago he would have said yes without a second thought. Now he wasn't so sure. _It's not like she's never run off to do a job on her own before. Why should now be any different?_ Clenching his hands into fists, he did his best to rein in his galloping emotions. _Right. She said she'd be back. Maybe she needed some air. I'll give her an hour, and then I'm off._ Glancing at the clock, he amended his thoughts. _Half an hour._ After all, there was a limit to his magnanimity.

Throwing himself back on the couch and making himself comfortable, Spike heaved a sigh of complete martyrdom once he noticed that Giles' ancient TV didn't have a remote. _Bloody perfect._ Getting back up, he hunched in front of the set and flipped the channels idly for a few minutes before shutting it off in disgust. Nothing but news shows this hour of the morning, and he didn't particularly want a recap of the current events of the day. He tried once more to look at the passage he'd been studying, but once again he found himself reading the same paragraph blindly over and over. He was almost convinced there must be a spell of some kind attached to it. Growling in frustration, he finally grabbed the blanket. Half an hour or not, he was going to follow Buffy. He wrenched open the door, and almost collided with the girl in question.

"God!" Buffy gasped. "Don't _do_ that!" Pushing past him, she entered the apartment and dropped a large paper bag on the table. Taking a sip from the cardboard cup she was holding, she gestured at the door and raised her eyebrows. "Going somewhere?"

"I was going back to the school," he admitted. "Was planning on following you."

"Why did you think..." A hurt look washed across her face. "Oh. You thought I'd ditched you." There was no reply he could give to that, and Buffy's face grew colder. "I said I'd be back," she said in a clipped voice. "Giles doesn't have a coffeemaker." Picking up the paper bag, she threw it at him, turning and striding angrily into the kitchen.

He opened the bag once she'd turned away. Inside were six packets of pig's blood.

**********

The rest of the day seemed longer than any day Spike had ever lived through. Giles phoned every hour, but had no new information to provide. He cautioned them again to stay out of sight, at least until nightfall. "The prophecy indicates that the Keeper won't arrive until well after midnight," he said. "It would be foolish for you to risk exposing yourselves until there's a reason."

"Fine," Buffy said with a groan. "But you'd better hurry and let us out. I think Spike's almost finished with your alcohol."

Turning around from where he was hunched over in front of the TV, Spike couldn't help but let out a grin at Giles' indignant squawk from the other end of the line. Buffy gave him a slight smile, and he grasped the olive branch, smiling back in relief. "Kidding," she said mildly into the phone. "Although I'm about ready to start in on it myself, and that would be of the bad."

"So," Spike said once she'd hung up. "You up for it then?" He nudged the untouched whiskey bottle towards her, and she shook her head with a shudder.

"No way. You know how that stuff gets to me." She squinted at the TV. "And could you please keep it on one channel for more than two seconds?"

"Afternoon soaps should be starting in a few minutes," he said, continuing to flip channels rapidly. Finally picking one, he settled next to her on the couch, relaxing when she didn't immediately get up and walk away. "Thanks for the blood," he said after a few minutes, his eyes never leaving the screen. He saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye, and he finally turned to face her. "Why don't you get some rest, Slayer?" he asked softly. "Big night ahead of us. I'll keep an ear out for the Watcher."

After blinking at him for a moment, she nodded. "Maybe a quick nap," she said. "Wake me up if anything happens." Making her way to the stairs, she paused momentarily as if she wanted to say something. Shaking her head at Spike's inquisitive look, she quirked a smile at him and disappeared upstairs. Spike listened as the bedroom door closed and, after ten minutes, her heartrate and breathing slowed and evened out.

Spike pounced on the phone the next time it rang, picking it up before it was completely finished with the first ring. Giles' wasn't exactly pleased to find Spike on the line, and didn't seem particularly inclined to take his word for it that Buffy was only sleeping. Spike finally growled that, if he had in fact drained the Slayer, he wouldn't exactly be spending his time answering phone calls like a bleeding secretary. It was enough to keep Giles from rushing back there, and he reluctantly admitted that he had no new information to share.

The next phone call was the same, and the one after that. The phone rang again ten minutes after the previous call, and Spike frowned at it before grabbing it to stop the ringing.

"What now?" he asked.

"Spike?" Giles said. The note of agitation in his voice had Spike sitting up in alarm. "I figured out why the translation was bothering me. One of the numerical symbols can have several possible interpretations, and I think the correct one...well, if I'm right, then the Keeper should be arriving within the hour."

Spike's eyes widened. "We're on our way," he said firmly, hanging up and running for the stairs. Opening the bedroom door softly, he saw Buffy lying curled up on top of the bed. She opened her eyes and blinked as Spike came in, and she looked so warm and sleepy-soft that his tongue was momentarily tied in knots.

"Time to head out, Slayer," he finally said. "Looks like our boy just might be arriving early."

Squinting at the windows, which were drenched with the late afternoon sunlight, Buffy nodded. "We'd better take the sewers," she said reluctantly. "Can you get us there from here?"

**********

Navigating the sewers turned out to be relatively uncomplicated, and they emerged as the last light of the sun was slanting low across the ground. Tucking the borrowed blanket close around his head, Spike made a run for the front doors of the high school, followed closely by Buffy. As he slapped away a few errant flames, Buffy peered into the main hall.

"Looks like it's empty," she said, and he nodded.

"Library it is then."

They found Giles pacing back and forth behind the desk, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them. "It could be any minute now," he said, glancing up at the clock. Buffy opened the bag of weapons she'd taken from Giles' house. Tossing a knife at Spike, she tucked a stake into her pocket and secured another knife for herself.

"How's this going to happen?" she asked, scanning the room, and Giles shrugged.

"Honestly, I have no idea," he admitted. "The texts were no more clear as to how the Keeper would reveal itself than they were about the nature of the weapon. Based on previous examples of dimension-shifting, I would suspect a portal of some kind."

"A portal where?"

All three of them spun around to see Buffy -- young Buffy, as Spike couldn't help but think of her -- standing just inside the doors. When she caught sight of the rest of the group, her jaw dropped.

"Oh my God," Buffy -- his Buffy, and this would be giving him a headache very soon -- murmured. Her younger counterpart stared at her.

"Giles?" she asked, without taking her eyes away from her future self. "What's going on?"

"I...oh dear," Giles said. "Buffy, I thought you'd left."

"Are you kidding? You've been wigged about something all day. I wanted to find out what was happening." Her face twisted in a look of pained disgust. "You're not going to tell me I've suddenly got an older sister, are you?" She seemed to notice Spike for the first time, and her eyes widened. "You said he escaped!" she yelped. She fixed Giles with a hard look. "I want to know what's going on."

"Right." Giles pulled off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Buffy, I know that this may be hard for you to believe, but..."

"We're from the future," Spike interrupted. He looked around at three sets of eyes glaring at him. "What? Get it done fast, like pulling off a band-aid. We don't have time to sit around and swap stories." He turned to address the younger Buffy again, who was looking at him in disgusted fascination. "We'll be out of your hair in a bit, so how about you get your little Slayer-self home safe until then? Ow!" He broke off as his Buffy elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Condescending much?" she hissed. "Look, we can't really say anything about it," she said gently to her past self. "You know, all that sci-fi stuff about messing up timelines. Spike and I came here for a weapon that we need in our own time, and as soon as we get it we'll be leaving."

"Uh-huh." The younger Buffy didn't look remotely convinced, unsurprisingly. "And who's that?" she asked, pointing behind Spike.

The three of them turned and saw a man leaning quietly against the table, his arms folded across his chest and an amused smirk on his face. He was short -- shorter than both Giles and Spike -- and was dressed in what looked to be a powder-blue leisure suit, his dark hair slicked back away from his face and a gold chain around his neck. It was difficult to say how old he was; although there were no wrinkles on his face, he gave off an air of extreme age.

"Well well," Spike said quietly. "Don't suppose you'd be the Keeper we're here to see? Not exactly what I was expecting."

"Expecting, huh? Haven't heard that one in a while, I have to say. I don't know when's the last time someone's been waiting for me." His voice had a flat midwestern accent, and Spike was reminded of nothing so much as a cross between Willy the bartender and a used car salesman, with a touch of Lorne thrown in for good measure. The man grinned charmingly. "I'm Hal," he said, extending his hand to each of them in turn. He eyed the two Buffies sharply. "And unless I'm looking at a case of identical cousins, I'd say we have a bit of time-travel on our hands."

"You're human?" Giles asked, and Hal shook his head. "But you're not one of the Thoren either."

"Not even remotely," Hal said, looking around the library curiously. "I was hired for this gig. I just took this shape because I like to blend in with the different dimensions I visit." He broke off and looked around in confusion. "This is the human dimension, right?" Giles nodded dumbly, and Hal smiled in relief. "Sometimes I get them mixed up, and it's been a few decades since I've been in this one."

"I'm not surprised," Buffy said with a raised eyebrow, looking at his suit. "And how did you get here? I though there was going to be a portal of some kind involved."

"Nah," Hal shrugged. "That stuff's for the tourists. I like to make a quiet entrance, look around a bit before I have to move on. Why scare the natives?"

"Yes, quite," Giles said impatiently. "But if you're the Keeper, you have the weapon we need to prevent an apocalypse. Some of us have come a long way to find it, as you've already guessed."

Hal looked at them shrewdly with a faint smile. "I have what you're looking for," he said. "But not now."

"Excuse me?" Spike asked. He took a threatening step forward, but it only seemed to amuse the little man.

"I mean, not now," he repeated patiently. "Like I said, I like to look around for a few hours, take in a bit of the local flavor. It's one of the perks of the job, and I don't like to talk shop until I've had a bit of down time."

"I don't think so," the younger Buffy said threateningly, speaking for the first time since Hal had arrived, and he let out a burst of laughter.

"Or you'll do what, cutie?" She clenched her fists, and he hastened to reassure her. "I know who you are, Slayer. I know you could kick me through those windows if I gave you half a chance. What I mean is, I can simply jump over to my next stop whenever I want. If I have to skip your charming dimension and get there a bit early? No skin off my nose." He looked around at the rest of the group. "You'll get what you're after, but only on my schedule. I think that's a fair offer."

After a slight hesitation, Giles nodded. "It seems we have no other choice," he said reluctantly.

"Great!" Hal crowed. He walked over to the younger Buffy and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze while she cringed in disgust. "Come on, guys, this'll be fun! Now, you have any good nightclubs around here? I haven't been dancing in decades."

"Watch it," Buffy growled, extricating herself from Hal and stomping over to Giles. "Okay, I did _not_ volunteer for creep-watch," she hissed. Giles cast a look over her shoulder, but Hal seemed to be absorbed in poking through one of the shelves of books.

"Buffy, please," he asked. "I know there's a lot going on here, but I need your help. We just need to keep him occupied for a short while until he's ready to move on."

"The Watcher's right," Spike said with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, that's nice," Buffy said with false cheer. "Coming from the vampire who's tried to kill me."

"Buffy," Giles said quietly. "Do you trust me?" After a pause, she dropped her head and nodded. "Since you're already involved in this...well, apparently, this Spike has a soul."

Buffy looked up with a bitter smile. "A soul, huh? And you believe him?"

"No. But I do believe you," he said gently. Giles glanced over at the older Buffy, who smiled at him gratefully. "We need this...creature's help, and I'm not comfortable letting him out of our sight until we have what we need. Can you think of any place that might hold his interest for a few hours?"

The younger Buffy softened slightly. "Well, I was going to meet Willow and Xander at the Bronze," she said reluctantly, and Giles nodded.

"I suppose that will have to do," he said, then turned to the older Buffy. "It might be best if you two stayed here."

"What? I don't think so." Giles held up his hand, but she interrupted. "Look, I know all of that stuff about polluting the time-stream. I promise we'll stay out of sight, and I won't talk to anyone. But I'm not going to wait around here until this guy comes back."

Giles sighed heavily. "This could be disasterous," he said gravely. "I cannot impress upon you enough the dangers of altering the past." He fixed Buffy and Spike with a glare, and they nodded. "Good. I still think someone should stay behind and keep an eye on the Hellmouth."

"So," Hal said, appearing suddenly behind Giles and making him jump. "Got it all worked out?"

"Looks like," Spike said. "But you're staying with us until we get what we came for, right?" Hal nodded.

"I'll enjoy the company. Lead the way. Oh, wait a minute." He looked down at himself. "Maybe this isn't the right look? What are the kids wearing these days?" He looked at Giles and Spike, shuddering delicately at Giles' tweed. Hal closed his eyes, and the air shimmered around him briefly. When it returned to normal, he was wearing a replica of Spike's all-black ensemble, complete with heavy boots and black leather duster.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Spike growled, and heard his Buffy snort indelicately.

"Yup. You're totally in style now," she said dryly.

"I...I think I should stay here and...catalog something," Giles stammered weakly. "But I'm sure the others will be happy to accompany you."

"Well, let's go," Hal said, bouncing on his toes slightly. "Time's a-wastin'."

"Great," young Buffy said with a sickly smile. "Let's all go to the Bronze."

**********

Hal insisted on chatting with young Buffy about the local nightlife all the way to the Bronze, leaving her with no alternative but to cast occasional despairing glances back at her older counterpart. Spike only half listened, being distracted with keeping an eye out for Angelus or for anyone else from this time who would recognize them. His Buffy walked next to him silently, her hands in her pockets and a frown on her face.

"I don't remember this," she said suddenly, and Spike turned to her.

"Remember what?"

"This," she said, gesturing vaguely at Hal. "I mean, that's me. Shouldn't I remember meeting this guy when I was seventeen? Shouldn't I remember meeting _myself_? Because I don't."

Spike frowned. "Huh. Yeah, I suppose so. What does that mean?"

Buffy laughed slightly. "You're asking the wrong person. Before I came here, Giles tried to explain about time paradoxes. It felt like part of my brain had died."

"Can't say I was much better at it," Spike admitted. "Now Fred, she was the one who could have straightened this all out."

"Fred? Oh, she worked with Angel, right?" Her voice softened. "I heard about what happened to her."

"Yup," Spike said brusquely. "Bright girl, that one. She didn't deserve to go that way."

"She was a friend of yours?" she asked in a mild tone.

Buffy's questions were making him edgy. He couldn't tell what she was getting at, or even if she was trying to get at anything at all. Maybe it was just casual talk -- and how sad was it that he couldn't recognize a simple conversation between them anymore? Had they ever even had that at all? He thought so, there at the end. But after two years, his memories of those final months with Buffy had petrified into a series of images -- some painful, some pleasurable -- that he had done his best to gently set aside. He had tried not to think about her too much, figuring that it was for the best that he let his experiences fade into a set of wistful memories. When he was feeling especially sentimental, he would pull them out to go through slowly, savoring the memory of each look, each touch. But he was starting to realize that the weight of his subconscious seemed to make him particularly unsuited for actually carrying on a conversation with her. The thought was immediately depressing. And what had she been asking him anyway?

"Of sorts, I guess," he answered. "Helped me out, because she thought it was the right thing to do."

He could tell she was hesitating. "Do you...you know...have anyone?"

He shrugged casually. "Oh, well, me and Angel have been getting it on fairly regular..." He dodged the hand that tried to swat him, grinning at her and enjoying her answering smile. "Not as such," he admitted. He wasn't going to ask her in return. Nope, wasn't going to happen. He didn't want to know. Alright, so he wanted to know, but he wasn't going to ask. Because he was okay with it. She'd moved on, he'd moved on, he was happy with it...

"So, how about you?" 

He cringed and cursed the lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. He braced himself wearily, waiting for her to sing the praises of that utter wanker, the Immortal.

"Nope, not right now," she said evenly, and he gaped at her.

"I thought...well, you and..." He couldn't even bring himself to say the bastard's name out loud. Luckily, Buffy rescued him.

"The Immortal?" she said dryly. "Yeah, I heard about you and Angel acting like complete asses toward him, thank you very much." She shrugged. "I was, I'm not anymore. It was fun." Her face took on a dreamy, distant look that made him want to punch something, and she laughed softly. "It was a _lot_ of fun. But I knew it wasn't a long-term thing."

"Is that right?" he muttered, breaking off when they turned the corner and approached the Bronze. Spike stepped forward and took the younger Buffy by the arm, ignoring her flinch.

"We'll be up keeping an eye out from the balcony," he said. "Try to keep your little friends away." Reaching out, he grabbed Hal by the collar as he started to walk away. "A few hours, you said, and then we get what we came for," he growled.

"That's what I said," Hal said distractedly, his eyes fixed on the club entrance. He removed Spike's hand and straightened his jacket. "Now, if you don't mind?"

Spike looked pleadingly at young Buffy, who rolled her eyes and fixed an artificial smile on her face. "After you!" she said brightly, giving her older counterpart one last helpless look before following Hal into the Bronze. Spike waited a moment before following them in.

Inside, it was fairly crowded for a Tuesday night. As he ducked behind a pillar, Spike saw Willow and Xander already waiting at a table. Either there was no band, or they were in the middle of a break, which meant Spike could easily hear young Buffy introduce Hal to them as a friend of Giles. He smirked, and felt a tug on the back of his jacket.

"Up here," Buffy muttered, leading him towards the stairs that led to the balcony. He followed her up, keeping to the shadows, and they settled into place in a corner that gave them some relative privacy, but still afforded a view of the floor below. Buffy sighed.

"This is so weird," she said quietly.

"No kidding," Spike said. "Being back in a place that doesn't exist anymore. It's gotta be strange for you, seeing yourself like that."

"Strange doesn't even begin to describe it," she said, leaning over the balcony. Spike hesitated slightly before moving to stand next to her. As much as he tried to deny it, he was still drawn to her, as if they were opposite poles of a magnet.

"You could have looked around the place a bit," he said. "Earlier today. Get Sunnydale in your system one last time before heading back."

Buffy shook her head. "I couldn't let myself," she said softly. "Besides it being too dangerous, I didn't want to see..." She broke off. "There are people here I've said goodbye to once already. It would be too hard."

"You were afraid of seeing your mum?" he asked quietly. When Buffy nodded, he rested his hand gently on the small of her back, warmed through when she didn't pull away from him. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, his hand splayed on her back and rubbing small circles where the bottom of her shirt rode up. She shivered occasionally, but gave no other sign that she either approved or disapproved of his actions. As awkward and difficult as their conversations so far had been, their current silence was extremely comfortable, and he found himself leaning more closely into her.

He was so distracted by her presence that he forgot to watch the floor, and he only took notice again when he heard Buffy chuckle next to him. The band had returned, and it looked like Hal had dragged a reluctant Willow onto the dance floor. His dancing ability seemed to be as bad as his fashion sense, and Spike smirked at the pained look on Willow's face. Buffy and Xander were dancing next to them, looking amused, although Spike caught her throwing an occasional worried glance upward at the balcony. Spike watched them for a while, his hand resting forgotten on Buffy's back, his thumb rubbing slowly over her skin. Buffy shivered again, and when he glanced over at her, he saw that she was sporting a light blush.

"Do you remember the last time we were up here?" she asked in a low voice. He froze for a moment, then resumed moving his hand slowly over her back.

"Never forgot it," he said, his voice slightly husky. He was amazed that she had brought it up, and he was equal parts aroused and ashamed when he thought back to the ways he had taken her up here, and the things he had said to her. "Buffy..." he began, but she interrupted him.

"That girl down there still has all that ahead of her," she murmured, and Spike followed her gaze to see the younger Buffy dancing with Xander and laughing at something he had said. "Mom and Dawn, the Mayor, Glory...you. I wonder what she would say if I told her? I don't think I would have believed it."

Spike removed his hand from Buffy's back, clenching his fist subconsciously. "Can't say as I'd blame you," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "Warning her about all of the little nasties ahead. Self-preservation, isn't it?"

She shook her head, still looking at the figure of herself dancing out on the floor. "I wouldn't," she said slowly. "Even if I could get away with it, I wouldn't. All of that? It's a part of who I am. I don't know who I would have become without it. All of it." She looked up at Spike, and he was struck silent by the clarity in her eyes. "Even the bad parts," she said softly. "Because I've learned that sometimes good things can come out of badness."

"Is that right?" he breathed, and she nodded.

"You did," she said simply. 

He froze for a moment, and felt his face cracking in a wide grin. The pleasure he felt at her statement loosened his tight limbs and caused a wave of arousal to uncoil in his belly, and the sparkle in her eyes had his hand returning confidently to its place on her back.

"Well then," he said with a smirk, nodding at the figures down below. "I guess she has a lot to look forward to, doesn't she?" Buffy rolled her eyes, a small smile tickling the corners of her mouth, and he leaned down next to her. "What do you figure the mighty Slayer would say if she knew all the dirty little things she'll get up to when she grows up?" he said seductively.

"Oh, I'm sure she'd stake you. Evil, disgusting vampire," Buffy said primly, but it was obvious she was trying not to laugh.

"Don't be so sure, Slayer," he whispered in her ear. "Might be more interested than you give yourself credit for. Too bad it's strictly hands-off this time around -- might have been fun to find out. Could invite her up here, let her have a taste," he teased. She snorted in disgust, but he could hear her heart beating faster and smell the subtle scent of her arousal. "Ooh," he crooned, "looks like she likes it."

"Shut up Spike," she said weakly, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"Or maybe I can just watch the two of you," he said thoughtfully, stepping aside quickly to avoid her elbow.

"Spike!" she hissed. "That's sick!" She shook her head in disgust. "Oh my God," she muttered. "You are _such_ a guy."

"Well, yeah," he scoffed. "Two lovely girls, Slayers no less?"

She screwed up her face. "I'm not...you know...that way."

"What way?" he asked innocently. "Why, Slayer, are you saying you've never touched yourself? That's what it amounts to, doesn't it?"

She gasped in outrage, but her eyes had dilated and he could still smell her arousal. "That is _so_ not the same thing, and you know it. What about you, huh?" she challenged. "What if I wanted to go find the other you and make a nice Spike sandwich?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Good-looking bloke like me? No problem." She gaped at him, her bluff called.

"I always thought you were in love with yourself," she muttered. "Now I have proof."

His arousal had been simmering throughout their banter, and before he could stop himself, he found himself lunging forward, grabbing Buffy by the upper arms and slamming his lips onto hers. She froze, and he immediately pulled back.

"Sorry, sorry," he stammered, running his hands over his face. "I didn't mean..."

His words were cut off when she pulled his wrists down, latching on to his mouth with a sigh. He kissed her back, gently and thoroughly. The only places where they were touching were their lips and where her fingers circled around his wrists. She finally released him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and continued kissing her.

She was giving off small moans and grunts as they kissed, and the sound was driving him crazy. He found it impossible to keep his hands still, running them over her back and ass, grabbing the back of her neck, and tickling the sides of her waist while she squirmed. Her fingers tightened on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him tightly against her. She was warm and soft, and she tasted exactly as he remembered. It almost brought tears to his eyes.

"Oh my God."

He spent a moment wondering how Buffy could possibly be talking to him when he was kissing her so hard, but he finally opened his eyes to see the younger Buffy standing five feet away, staring at the two of them with a look that was equal amounts fascination and repulsion.

"Hal's ready to go," she said flatly. "And as soon as this is all over, I'm going to go and wash my eyeballs with bleach." Turning around, she ran lightly back down the stairs. Spike released Buffy, running his hands through his hair and feeling, despite his earlier teasing, slightly ashamed. Buffy smoothed her shirt and hair, her face bright red. She turned to follow her younger self down the stairs, but Spike caught her arm before she could leave. He knew he shouldn't ask, he didn't want to go there again, but he couldn't stop himself.

"What does this mean?" he asked, trying to keep any note of pathetic insecurity out of his voice. She hesitated.

"I don't know," she finally said. "But it means something." Reaching up, she dropped a light kiss on the corner of his mouth, then turned and ran downstairs, leaving him to follow.

**********

Giles was waiting for them back at the library. He looked concerned when he saw the younger Buffy's pale face.

"Are you all all right?" At Buffy's silent nod, he focused his attention on Hal. "I take it you, er, enjoyed yourself?"

Hal shrugged expansively. "Not bad, not bad at all. The company was good, for one thing. You've got yourselves a nice little dimension here."

"Thanks for the endorsement," Spike said, "but how about we get what we came for?" He forced a note of impatience into his voice, but he was finding himself suddenly reluctant to complete his mission. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened between him and Buffy, but there had been a deep tectonic shift of some kind that left him reeling. At this point, he was afraid that it would disappear once they were back in their own world. He'd go back to L.A. to stop the apocalypse, and it would be like this entire interlude had never happened. He wasn't sure he could handle it, knowing that she was out there in the world, aware of his presence and simply choosing to stay away from him. He suddenly wondered if that's what Buffy thought he had been doing. _Yeah, probably. Nice one there._

Hal looked up at him, all traces of levity gone from his face. "Ready when you are."

Moving to the middle of the floor, Hal closed his eyes and waved his hand slowly over the ground. The air began to shimmer and twist, flickering with light, and within seconds a gaping hole had opened up in thin air. It was difficult to see inside the fissure, and Spike blinked furiously until the figure of Hal standing in front of the opening resolved itself.

"After you," he said, gesturing politely, and Spike heard the older Buffy snort disbelievingly.

"Yeah, I don't think so. Where's the weapon?"

"Inside." When no one moved, he rolled his eyes. "Look, in or out. You're letting the heat out."

Spike glanced over at his Buffy, but before he could say anything, he heard a roar and felt a warm rush of air. He staggered slightly, and when he looked up again, he, the two Buffys and Hal were standing in the middle of a large cave, lamplight flickering over the surfaces from torches embedded in the walls. Spike rounded on Hal with a snarl, who held up his hands defensively.

"Hey, it's a lot of work to hold that door open."

"Where's Giles?" the younger Buffy asked in a hard voice.

"Back outside. I didn't do anything to him. But this weapon can only be claimed by a proven warrior, and you three are the ones who fit the bill." He raised his eyebrows. "If you want, I can just send you back and we can forget about this whole thing."

Spike saw the two Buffys glance at each other, and the older figure quirked a smile.

"What do you say? I hold him, you hit him?"

The younger Buffy grinned evilly. "Oh, yeah. That'll work." They stalked menacingly towards Hal, who rolled his eyes and flickered out of existence momentarily before reappearing on the far side of the cavern.

"You're on my turf now," he said. "And I'm not trying to hurt you, so the idle threats are...well, idle." Folding his arms dramatically over his chest, he looked the three of them over critically. "Boy, they don't make champions like they used to," he muttered. "Now, let's get moving." Turning on his heel, he disappeared into a passageway leading out of the main cavern. Spike looked at his Buffy.

"I guess we'd better follow him." He saw the younger Buffy staring at him. "What?"

"You first," she said, pointing at the passageway.

"What, you don't want to turn your back on me, is that it?" He sighed heavily. "Fine, Slayer. Whatever you want." Stalking over to the wall of the cave, he found Hal leaning against the rocks, waiting for them. Clapping Spike on the back with a cheerful smile, Hal led the group through the fissure in the cave wall.

**********

"So...me and Spike?"

They'd been walking through the long passageway for about ten minutes in total silence. Spike pricked up his ears at the muttered question. Even though she had spoken in a low voice, he knew it was the younger Buffy.

"Yeah, about that...you probably shouldn't have seen that."

A bitter laugh. "See, and this is where I suddenly don't believe all of this time travel crap. Because there is no way I would ever be with _him_ ," she spat out, her voice shaking. Spike wheeled around.

"Well, if it's any consolation, princess, I hate you too. At least, the Spike from this time does." His Buffy was glaring at him. "What? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Okay. Could you please go back to not helping? Because that was working out just fine," she said pointedly. With an aggrieved sigh, he turned back around and followed Hal, pretending not to listen to the two girls behind him.

"Look, about me and Spike?" his Buffy was saying. "It's...complicated." And there was his favorite word. Spike bit his tongue to keep from interrupting them again.

"So, what, Spike's really some nice fluffy puppy who's only pretending to kill and eat people? Let me guess: he's just misunderstood?" the other Buffy asked sarcastically. Spike snorted, and he could almost feel his Buffy's eyes burning a hole in his back.

"Not exactly," his Buffy said ruefully. "But he's changed."

"So I've heard. Apparently, he has a soul now." 

Spike was starting to get awfully sick of that phrase.

"You know," he muttered to no one in particular, "there should be a secret handshake, or a membership card, or something like that. Maybe a great glowy mark on my forehead that lets people know I'm in the club. Because I could really do with a little less of the attitude." The Buffys ignored him, and they continued on in silence for a few more minutes.

"So," the younger Buffy said suddenly with false cheer. "Looks like I make it through high school after all, huh?"

"Well, either that, or I'm a very, very old senior," his Buffy said dryly.

"Is there any chance that Principal Snyder gets eaten by some random vamp? Because that really, really would not suck." Spike heard one of the Buffys giggle, and then the other join in. It was at once one of the strangest and most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard.

"Not so much," the older Buffy admitted. "Sorry."

There was a pause, and then the younger Buffy asked softly, "I'm going to have to kill him, aren't I?"

"Snyder?"

Another pause. "Angel." She gave a bitter laugh. "Don't try to tell me he's not dead. I know he is."

"I..." his Buffy began helplessly, then trailed off. "I can't tell you," she said firmly. "But, what if I told you..."

"He's dead," Spike bit out, spinning around to stare at the two faces looking up at him. "And when the time is right, you'll do what you have to do." The younger Buffy had gone pale, and his Buffy gave him a furious look before grabbing his arm and dragging back down the passageway.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed. "You can't tell her that!"

"And what were you going to say?" he challenged. "That he somehow makes out all right? Back from the dead, and all souled up? Slayer, you can't forget who you're dealing with here. You give that girl the least inkling that she should spare Angelus, and that's a weakness that'll be used against her." He grabbed her arms tightly. "She's dealing with monsters," he said quietly. "Him and me both. She can't pity us, not for an instant. Not if she wants to survive."

"I didn't spare him," she whispered fiercely. Spike didn't think she was aware that her lower lip was trembling slightly. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I did it. _She'll_ do it."

"I'm not doubting you," he said earnestly. "But what would have happened if you'd gone into that last fight with Angelus knowing that he would get his soul back? Can you honestly tell me there isn't a part of you that would have held back, just a little? Because that can be all it takes."

Buffy lowered her head. "I've thought about it," she admitted. "And honestly? I don't know." She gave a short laugh. "You know what's funny? When I found out I'd be coming back here, I prepared myself for seeing Angelus again. But I didn't realize that the weirdest thing of all would be knowing that the other you is out there right now, hating me."

"Yeah," Spike said firmly, eyes fixed on hers. "That other me wants you dead, and so does Angelus. You can't forget that, and you can't let that other Buffy think any differently." He pulled back, leaning wearily against the opposite wall of the passageway. "Funny, I never thought I'd be in this position, trying to convince you that I'm nothing but a monster."

"I know what you were," Buffy said softly, stepping forward and taking his hand. "And that's not who you are now. Not anymore." Squeezing his hand briefly, she released him and trotted down the passage in the direction that Hal and the younger Buffy had disappeared. Shaking his head, he followed after her, amazed as always by how she could manage to say so much to him in so few words. He jogged after her, catching up with her right before they reached Hal and the other Buffy.

"Do these bloody tunnels never end?" he muttered. "Hal!" he called. "We didn't ask for the extended tour."

"We're almost there," Hal said without turning around.

"If you can jump around in different dimensions, why can't you just take us right to it?" Buffy complained. Hal shrugged carelessly.

"Don't ask me, I didn't build the place. The Thoren have a thing for mazes, or something like that. I never quite got them, but...well, their money's as good as any demon's, so I can't complain."

"What's this weapon do, anyway?" the young Buffy asked.

"We need to stop an apocalypse," her older counterpart replied. "See, when two Thoren get together...well, let's just say their version of doing the nasty involves worlds collapsing. Not exactly a good thing."

"So this is the only thing that will kill them?"

"Kill them?" Hal burst out, turning on them. "Are you crazy? You think my employers would leave something here that can kill them? That may be how your species likes to...enjoy itself, but I hope you don't mind if I think that's a little barbaric."

"Okay," the older Buffy said slowly. "So, what does this weapon do? Stop them from hooking up, or something?" Hal looked at her incredulously.

"Boy, you're not much fun, are you?" He blew out a breath in disgust. "Don't any of you have the slightest idea of what you're looking for?" He groaned at their slightly sheepish looks. "Well, it looks like I'll have to get them to talk to their publicists. Look, all this does is activate a protective barrier at the right place and time in order to prevent any residual unpleasantness from the mating."

There was a long pause before the younger Buffy spoke. "Are you trying to tell me this is some kind of...mystical condom?" she asked blankly.

"Well, I guess that's a good a term as any," Hal said with a shrug, then gestured forward. "Right this way."

Turning a corner, they entered another chamber, even larger than the first. In the middle was a flat stone table, almost like an altar. The air above it seemed to be in constant shimmering motion, reminding Spike of the portal through which they'd first entered. Apart from this, the room was empty. Hal walked up to the table, waved his hand over it, and plucked a piece of paper out of thin air.

"This is part of the chant you're going to need," he said. Reaching into the glowing region of air above the table, he seemed to root around for a while before withdrawing his closed hand. Opening his fingers, he let dangle...oh God.

"The amulet will be useless without the right words," Hal said. The object in question, a large green stone hanging from a thin silver chain, glinted in the reflected firelight. Spike backed up and shook his head.

"Why does it have to be an amulet," he moaned.

"What'll this do, exactly?" Buffy asked.

"Precisely what I said," Hal answered. "Create a mystical barrier that will keep all of the different realities safely in the right place. No fuss, no muss, and no danger to the user. On top of that, it's rather attractive, if I do say so myself."

"Why do you need us to take care of it?" Spike asked. "Why can't the Thoren do this themselves whenever they feel like getting a little happy?"

"They're incredibly forgetful," Hal said with a sympathetic smile. "They can barely be troubled to keep track of each other, let alone a little thing like this. That's why they hired me. I keep things for them. If it was up to them, they'd keep losing it, and it would never be there when it was needed. The problem is, even when it's not lost they tend to forget it's there -- they felt kind of bad the last time they messed up your dimension. So, they left it here so that any warrior would be able to find it if needed."

"Are you sure about that?" the older Buffy asked. "Because it took weeks of looking through old prophecies to figure out what we needed to do."

"Huh," Hal said, his brow furrowing. "Looks like that's another thing they'll need to bring up with their PR people. Oh well," he shrugged. "I'm just here to keep track of things."

"So, that's it?" Spike asked. "You just give us this and we're on our way?"

"Well, not quite," Hal said. Behind him, a door appeared in the far wall of the cavern. Three large, troll-like demons entered through it, swinging long clubs and grunting loudly. "You see, the Thoren specified that only warriors be allowed to claim the amulet." With a flash, Hal disappeared, leaving the three of them alone with the demons.

**********

There was no time to make a plan. The closest of the demons lumbered heavily toward him, roaring as it came closer. Spike ducked under a swinging arm and jumped onto its back. Its skin was just slimy enough that he had a hard time getting a grip, and with a ferocious shake, the monster launched him into the air and sent him sprawling on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the two Buffys being slowly backed into separate corners of the room by the two other massive demons, dealing out occasional kicks and punches as they circled the monsters warily. A kick to the gut distracted him, and he threw himself back at his demon with a snarl. It was only then that he realized, to his shock, that the knife he had been carrying at the Bronze had completely disappeared.

It was nearly impossible to get purchase on the thing's slippery hide, and every time Spike grabbed it, it managed to slither out from under him. In complete frustration, he took to kicking at its knees. When it fell to the ground with a howl, he kicked it in the head a few times until it swatted him away.

"Is there some demon law against personal hygiene?" he heard one of the Buffys gasp. "Because the slime? Not the way to win friends and influence people." 

Spike risked a glance and saw that the younger Buffy had planted herself on top of one of the tall rocks at the edge of the cavern, kicking at the demon that kept swiping at her with its claws. In the other corner, Spike saw his Buffy fighting silently and fluidly with an intent scowl on her face, deadly and beautiful as ever. And even in the midst of his own fight, he felt a rush of pity for the young girl she used to be, who never failed to mock the monsters even as she fought them. The woman she had become was powerful beyond measure, her vibrant spark expanded into a steady glow, but that girl was gone forever.

"Spike!"

The warning came too late. He felt his demon grab him by the ankle and toss him in the air as if he weighed no more than a piece of paper. He landed heavily about ten feet away, rolling to his feet with a groan.

"Oh, balls," he ground out, ducking back under the demon's reach and sprinting for the wall. Another quick glance back told him that the Buffys were managing to hold their own, but neither of them had managed to incapacitate her own demon in the slightest. As his demon swung back around and lumbered toward him, Spike saw a green glint from the back of the neck of the monster that his Buffy was fighting. Its glow reminded him of the amulet Hal had retrieved.

"Buffy!" he called hoarsely. "Back of the neck!"

His Buffy shot a glance at him, then squinted at the demon that was moving towards him.

"I see it," she said grimly, reaching down and catching up a sharp rock from the floor of the cavern. Copying her actions, Spike hefted his own rock, catching Buffy's eye and nodding before throwing the stone with all his might.

Buffy's rock left her hand at the same time that his did, the two passing each other in midair. Spike watched in grim satisfaction as his stone hit Buffy's demon squarely in the back of the neck. The bright green spot exploded in a burst of light, and the demon howled and scrabbled at its neck, twisting its arms to try to reach the spot where it had been hit. It sank to the floor with a moan, twitching faintly before collapsing in a heap. His own demon was similarly incapacitated by Buffy's rock, and Spike didn't even try to resist the urge to kick it in the face as it lay on the ground.

"That's right," he gloated. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Giving it one final kick, he ran over to where the last of the demons had the younger Buffy cornered. She was keeping it at bay with one of the torches from the wall, and the demon's flesh was seared and blackened in spots. He was reaching for another rock when one flew past its ear, embedding itself in the neck of the monster. The older Buffy ran up next to him, and they watched as the last of the creatures crumpled to the ground and lay still.

The sound of their mingled panting was loud in the sudden stillness of the cavern. The younger Buffy looked particularly shaken, her face pale and her free hand clutching her side. Spike's nostrils flared at the scent of human blood. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he pulled Buffy's hand away from her side and winced at the gush of blood. He could see three long gashes near her ribs where the demon had caught her with its claws.

"It's fine," she said shakily. Spike ignored her, shrugging off his coat and removing his overshirt. Wadding it into a ball, he pressed it gently over Buffy's wound and held it there for a minute. She glanced up at him with a look of surprised gratitude mixed with the faintest hint of something heavy and dark. He felt something uncoil in his belly, the subconscious, hidden part of him that still longed to dance with this Slayer even though it would probably lead to his death. He shuddered as his Buffy reached out from behind him, pressing her warm hand on top of his. He couldn't look away from the younger Buffy in front of him. He blinked and pulled away only when he heard the sound of applause coming from the other side of the cavern. Hal had returned.

"Not too bad," he said approvingly, looking over the three dead demons dispassionately. "Looks like you did a pretty good job." He blanched at the furious look Spike was giving him. "Hey, don't blame me. I just work here." Holding up the amulet and shaking it gently, he raised his eyebrows at them. "Do you want it or not?"

Spike exchanged a glance with Buffy before stalking over and grabbing it out of Hal's hands.

"Don't forget the incantation," Hal said, flinching slightly as Spike wheeled around and snatched the folded paper away from him. "Do whatever you want with it, whenever you want," he said cryptically. "It's all yours. Now, if you don't mind, I'm running late. Not that it wasn't fun chatting with you nice folks, of course." He pointed at the far wall, and Spike turned his head to see a portal opening up, the air around the edges flickering and shimmering. "You don't mind if you see yourselves out?" By the time Spike had turned back around, Hal was gone again.

"Well," Spike said. "That was...anticlimactic."

"Fine by me," Buffy said fervently. "Let's just get out of here." Supporting the younger Buffy on either side, they stepped up to the portal, paused for a deep breath, and walked through the gateway together.

**********

Giles was waiting on the other side, and he gasped at the younger Buffy's appearance as soon as they stepped back into the library.

"My God," he breathed, taking in her shredded, blood-stained shirt. "What happened?" he asked harshly, examining his Slayer with a gentle touch.

"Demons," Spike said succinctly. "Big and slimy, sharp claws and all."

"It's okay," Buffy said, wincing as Giles prodded at her injury. "Except for the _ow_ factor of you poking at it like that."

"I'm sorry," Giles muttered. "But you should probably have this looked at. It could require stitches."

"A world of no," she said firmly. "No hospitals. And mom would totally freak out. Look, it's already starting to feel better. Just...wrap it up or something, okay?"

Giles nodded, fixing Spike with a glare before heading back into his office and reappearing with a first-aid kit. Buffy cringed when the antiseptic spray was applied.

"How could you be so thoughtless?" Giles ground out, not looking away from Buffy's injury. "At the very least, I should think you would have consideration for your own life." He glanced up at the older Buffy with a fierce look, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Huh?" she asked. "I mean, we were all in danger. It's not like..." She trailed off and swallowed. "Oh," she said. "She hurts, I hurt."

"Except that you don't," Spike said slowly. He looked up to find Buffy staring at him in confusion. "You said it yourself, Slayer. Why don't you remember any of this happening? Why don't you remember Hal, or meeting your older self when you were back in school?"

Buffy shrugged. "I kind of figured there was some kind of memory spell we did, something that would keep us from changing the past too much. Maybe something tied to that amulet?"

"Amulet?" Giles asked, but Spike ignored him.

"I don't think so," he said firmly. "Your mind can play tricks on you, but your body doesn't lie." Pointing over at the younger Buffy, he gestured at the bandage Giles was winding around her stiff torso. "That's gonna leave a mark," he said, then paused at the reproachful look the younger girl was giving him. "And I'm sure it'll be quite a lovely little scar," he said awkwardly. "Barely noticeable." He turned back to his Buffy. "But you don't have one. If you did, I'd bloody well know about it, and you know I would." He gave her a heated look, then looked over to see that the younger Buffy had turned slightly pink, and that Giles was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I beg you not to complete that thought," he said faintly. Finished with his job, he set aside the first-aid supplies and sat back on his heels thoughtfully. "This does lead to some fascinating conundrums," he said, his anger seemingly forgotten in the face of an intellectual puzzle. "It has been speculated by some quantum theorists that reality itself is a series of probabilities -- and that when those possibilities are made actual, reality creates itself." Giles looked at the confused faces around him. "To put it succinctly, each time there is a choice between two or more possible courses of action, a separate reality is created for each set of circumstances. A separate universe, if you will."

"So...like in Back to the Future, part two?" the younger Buffy asked with a smirk, and Giles groaned.

"Honestly, your taste in cinema is appalling." He stood up hurriedly, digging behind the counter and retrieving a pile of books. "But this could be a possible solution to a problem that has baffled theorists for years. In addition, it would solve one of the knottiest problems of time travel: the paradox of being unable to change the past. For instance, Spike could not have done anything in this time which would have contributed to the death of his past self."

"Because then I wouldn't have been around to go back in the past and kill myself," Spike answered, then looked at the silent faces around him. His Buffy in particular seemed like she was trying not to laugh. "What?" he asked defensively. "Maybe I've done a bit of study in my time." The curiosity around him had turned to complete skepticism. "All right, so maybe I've seen a movie or two myself," he admitted sullenly. He felt a surge of affection when his Buffy leaned over and poked him gently in the side with a small grin. He smiled back at her, grabbing her finger and squeezing it before releasing her.

"You are basically correct," Giles admitted. If he had seen the friendly gesture between them, he was clearly pretending it had never happened. "The best possible solution to this paradox is that, by changing the events of this timeline, you have effectively created an alternate universe, one that has deviated from your own from the moment you appeared in this time. It would explain why Buffy has no memory of these events, and no physical scars. You are in a different reality from the one you belong in."

There was complete silence for a minute, each of them seemingly oppressed by the weight of his or her own thoughts. The notion of alternate realities and separate universes seemed too big somehow, too grand and imposing for their brief adventure. Spike gave a slight shiver at the thought of different worlds other than his own being affected by his own actions, and then shut down that train of thought before it could go any further. It was no use worrying about things he couldn't control. Time to focus on his job: get back to his own time, amulet intact, and take care of business there. Speaking of which...he pulled out the watch, and saw that only about an hour remained on the timer.

"Well," he murmured, swallowing around the lump in his throat and forcing a nonchalant tone. "As much as I hate to interrupt the philosophy lecture, soon it'll be time for me to head back." He couldn't look at his Buffy, couldn't think about her, not in present company. He was afraid that whatever came out of his mouth would be best saved for a private moment.

"Yeah," the younger Buffy said, shaking herself out of the spell they had all fallen under. "I should probably get out of here myself, before mom really kills me. I think I have a clean shirt in my locker I can wear. Ride?" she asked with a glance at Giles, and he nodded. She stood up stiffly and walked over to her older counterpart. "So...are you heading back too?"

His Buffy nodded. "Sooner or later," she said softly. "It was...well, it was really, really weird seeing you." They gave identical grins, and the older Buffy's face softened. "Be careful," she said quietly. "Whatever's coming, you can handle it. You're strong."

"Slayer," Spike said, and the younger Buffy turned to him. "Don't trust me," he said quietly. "You will, one day," -- and oh, how precious that thought was, and the feeling of awe in being able to say it was overwhelming -- "but it's not the time for that yet." Buffy looked him in the eyes for a moment, then nodded decisively.

"Thanks," she said softly, turning and making for the library door.

"Except if I come to you in a little while with a plan," Spike interjected hurriedly. "You'll know it when it happens. I'll help you out with a spot of trouble with the police. You can trust me on that one." Buffy looked back and forth between him and her older counterpart in confusion.

"Yeah," his Buffy said ruefully, then grinned. "You'd better go with him on that one. Oh, and there's the thing with the chip. I know he'll be a major pain in the ass, but don't stake him on that one either."

"Hey!"

"I...I don't want to know," the younger girl said firmly. "Whatever you're talking about, I don't want to know." She raised her eyebrows at Spike. "So, no stakeage, but I shouldn't exactly turn my back on you either?" She shook her head. "All I want at this point is a long, long sleep, so I can forget all of this happened."

With a last look at them, she disappeared through the library doors. Giles hesitated before following her.

"Will you still be here when I get back?" he asked the older Buffy. "I'd like to see you off, if I may." She nodded, and he smiled and ducked through the doors. Buffy and Spike were left alone together, each of them staring at the floor.

**********

The library door swung shut behind Giles with a soft thump. Buffy was staring at the floor of the library as if the secrets of the universe were etched on it. For one of the only times in his existence, Spike wasn't sure that he had anything to say. _So, Buffy. Nice seeing you around the place. What say we meet up for a spot of tea when we're back safe in our own dimension?_

He groaned internally. Who was he kidding? They'd say goodbye, maybe share a polite hug or a chaste kiss. They'd make empty promises to keep in touch with each other. He'd go back to L.A., she'd go back to Rome, or London, or wherever she was living these days, and that would be the end of it. The thought was too depressing to contemplate. He'd thought he'd gotten safely over her. He'd stopped picking at the memories as if they were an open wound, and he'd thought that they'd finally begun to heal over. And yet here he was, and in a day or two she'd threatened to unravel all of the pieces he'd carefully put together.

The worst of it was that he didn't know what he really wanted from her. Friendship? A relationship? What if he wanted more? What if -- and it seemed like a heresy to even consider it -- what if _she_ wanted more, and he couldn't give it to her? The thought wasn't as unbelievable as it might have been several years ago. He suddenly realized that, Harmony aside (and she barely counted), he didn't have much experience with being an ex in a friendly capacity. And oh God, did this mean he would end up like Angel in her eyes? The thought made him shudder. If they were going to move on, he wanted to do it half a world away from her, at least until he had a little more time under his belt. 

Stupid humans and their backwards notions of relationships. No self-respecting vampire would be caught dead trying to be "friends" with an ex. If you couldn't win your girl back with a little torture, you could always dust her. Or yourself, or the both of you, depending on how maudlin you were. _You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends._ The words were vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd heard them before. He had a vague recollection that he'd been drunk when he'd heard them. No matter, whoever said that was a right smart bloke. Must have been thinking specifically of him and Buffy.

Frustrated with the continued silence, Spike swung himself up to sit cross-legged on the wide library table. He pulled the amulet out of his back pocket and took a close look at it. There was nothing special about it that he could see, but he knew very well that that was no guarantee of effectiveness. He felt in his pocket for the instruction sheet he'd grabbed from Hal as well, and upon opening it he rolled his eyes. He didn't know what he'd been expecting -- some ancient scroll, perhaps, written in Latin, Greek, or one of the demonic tongues -- but the title at the top was in block Roman characters:

THOREN AMULETS FOR DUMMIES:

EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT BUILDING INTERDIMENSIONAL BARRIERS, BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK

He was just starting to read the list of instructions when the paper was snatched out of his hand.

"Hey! Do you mind?"

Buffy examined it with a frown on her face, and after a moment she shook her head and handed it back to him.

"This just gets weirder and weirder. I mean, I don't know what I was expecting, but this was _not_ it."

He nodded ruefully. "Yeah. Not exactly the trip I was planning on making." He looked at her out the corner of his eye and saw that she was regarding him with a steady intensity that was starting to make his skin crawl. "What?"

She shook her head again. "Nothing. It's just that, after all this time, I can't believe that this is when I finally see you again."

"You could have seen me before this," he said, and winced at Buffy's furious look. He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it left his mouth.

"Or maybe you could have let me know you were alive in the first place, you idiot!" she snapped. Letting her head fall back on her neck, she stopped and blew out a long breath. "I don't want to fight about this now," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

"What _do_ you want?" he asked carefully. He wasn't sure whether or not he really wanted to know the answer.

She lowered her head and shrugged, rubbing absently at her ribs in the same place where her younger counterpart had been clawed. "I want to get back and stop an apocalypse. After that? I don't know. And why is this all on me, anyway? What do _you_ want?"

Spike let out a shaky laugh. "Don't know. The same thing, I guess, in about the same order."

"Yeah," she said softly, fingering her ribs. He couldn't stop staring at that hand rubbing small circles over her side. "And that means what, exactly?"

Ignoring the question, Spike slid to the edge of the table, leaned forward, and caught Buffy by the wrist, stilling her hand. She flinched slightly, then twined her fingers with his. "Sorry," he said. "You were distracting me." When did his voice become that guttural? Buffy's heartrate had increased, and he could feel her palm grow damp with sweat. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Huh?" Her eyes were large in her face, and he found himself unable to look away. Had they always been that big?

"Your ribs," he clarified. "You were rubbing them. Did you get hurt?"

"What? I mean, no." She shook her head to clear it, but didn't draw back her hand. "I was thinking about what you said about scars, and wondering how weird that would be if they suddenly appeared. Except that this isn't my past anymore, is it?" With her free hand she lifted her shirt slightly, craning her neck to look at the unblemished skin on the side of her torso. "Guess not," she said quietly. "No scars."

He made no conscious decision to touch her. It was if his fingers had developed magnetic properties that attracted them to her skin. One minute his right hand was in his lap, and in the next it was curled around her ribs just below her breast. She took a deep breath, and he could feel her torso expand. Her skin was as warm and soft as he remembered, and he could almost feel the rush of blood just below the surface.

"No scars," he repeated, stroking her side gently. She leaned into his touch, sighing as he moved his fingers slowly over her skin. All thoughts of apocalypses and alternate dimensions had fled. In that moment, the only real thing was the girl in front of him, holding his hand and trembling slightly as he touched her.

It was only logical that she should move forward to stand more comfortably between his dangling legs. It made sense that he should lean forward to feel her warm, moist breath on his face. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world for their lips to meet as she tilted her face up to his.

He clutched her fingers tightly in his hand, and she squeezed back with equal strength. She ran her other hand up the back of his neck, winding her fingers in his hair as they kissed frantically. He couldn't think beyond the immediate moment, beyond the raw sensation of her mouth on his and her warm skin under his fingertips. He let his other hand roam freely over her back and side, her skin twitching and jumping beneath his touch. He froze for a brief instant before letting his hand slide up under her bra to cup her naked breast, his thumb on her nipple. She groaned at that, moaning into his mouth and digging her fingernails into his scalp. He squeezed her gently, teasing her, until she wound her arm firmly around the back of his neck and climbed into his lap.

He pulled her tightly against him as she twined her legs around his waist. He wanted to kiss her fluttering eyelids and taste the sweat on her neck, but he couldn't bear to leave the warm wetness of her mouth. She rocked against him, rubbing herself on him as he continued to pinch and twist her swollen nipple. She whined and squirmed on his lap, and in desperation he abandoned her breast, yanked her even closer, and bit down gently on her neck with his blunt teeth.

"Ohgodohgodohgod..." she hissed frantically, leaning over to suck on the sensitive skin below his ear. She was panting and shaking in his arms, grinding herself desperately against him, and all he could think was, _this is real. This is really happening._ And then she stiffened and let out a loud grunt, burying her face in his neck and quivering all over. _Bleeding fuck. Did she just...?_ And then he had no time to think, because _he_ was about to, and he had to clamp down with all his control before he came in his pants like a teenager.

He held her tightly as she came down, until her muscles were loose and she lay relaxed against him like a doll. He kissed her neck softly as she trailed sweaty fingers up and down his back below his t-shirt. When she raised her head and looked at him, her face was flushed and her eyes were glowing.

"Wow," was all she said, and he could only nod dumbly in return. She shifted in his lap, feeling his erection beneath her, and with a raised eyebrow and a smirk she began to move on him again. It took all his willpower to grab her hips and keep her still. She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip, and he groaned.

"No time," he wheezed. "Almost...go, and the amulet." He didn't think he was making much sense, but she seemed to understand what he was getting at.

"Later?" she asked. There was a slight hitch in her voice, almost of nervousness, although he didn't see what she could possibly have to be shy about now. He nodded firmly at her.

"Later. Yes."

"Good," she said serenely, smiling and stretching against him like a cat as he bit back another groan. He fell back against the table, and she rolled off to lie next to him, propping her head up and looking around at the darkened library. She quirked a smile. "I can't tell you how many naughty daydreams I had about this very table, and doing what we just did. Except...I guess I was thinking about Angel at the time." She winced and looked down at him, slightly chagrined. "And I just killed the mood, didn't I?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He tried for a growl, but he couldn't quite lose the stupid grin that he was sure was plastered on his face. At least his erection had gone down as a result of her words, which made it a bit easier for him to think. She leaned over and kissed him gently, a soft, wordless apology that soothed his ego and relaxed his nerves. When the kiss was over, he reluctantly sat up and dug for the pocket-watch, mildly surprised that he hadn't managed to crack the damn thing. Twenty minutes were left. Reaching for the amulet and instructions, he shoved them into his pocket. He was about to stand up when a sudden thought occurred to him that had him scrambling for Hal's instruction sheet again.

"Interdimensional barriers," he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut. Buffy sat up next to him, winding her arm casually around his waist and looking down at the paper.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "That's the whole point. Are you saying that's not the right amulet?"

"No, that's not it." He was unable to look at her, and instead concentrated on the gentle tug of her fingers as they twined themselves around his beltloop. "It's just...seems to be no reason why this trinket shouldn't work on any old interdimensional gateway, not just one the Thoren created. And I know all of that talk about not changing the past, but...." He trailed off, and felt her stiffen and hold her breath.

"You're thinking of Glory," she said with a slight catch in her voice, and he nodded. It was easier to talk about this when she was next to him and he didn't have to worry about maintaining eye contact. "You know you can't, right?" she said.

He knew she was right. The wild hope that had arisen at the thought quickly died. And he knew that, even if they were able to magic themselves into the right time, it wouldn't be his Buffy up there on the tower, but one of the myriad other alternate-dimensional Buffys. But still...to be able to save her like that, to close the rift between dimensions and let her walk down safely off that tower, even if the Buffy he saved wasn't his own....He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"I know," he said, his voice muffled. "Just...it's tempting, is all."

"Yeah," she whispered softly. "I had the same idea, about Acathla. Go there and close the portal before...before I had to do anything else. But we can't. We can't change what's happened, not for us."

"Would you do it, if you could?" he insisted. She hesitated, and he rushed on before she could answer. "Because there's always the option of the spell. Give Angelus his soul back now, before you have to pop on back home, and then none of the bad stuff ever happens here." The words were thick in his throat, and he had to force them out.

"Oh God," she groaned. "Part of me wants to, so badly. I want to keep everyone safe. I mean, if I know people are going to be hurt, shouldn't I fix it, if I can? It seems wrong to sit back and say nothing when I can actually _do_ something to help."

"Right," he said slowly. "Except for the possibility of making everything ten times worse by interfering. Can't say that I want that type of responsibility."

"That's it exactly. So, to answer your question...no. No," she repeated firmly. "One of the things I learned as the Slayer was not to second-guess the past. You have to keep moving forward, always. It's too easy to lose yourself in the might-have-beens. And I wouldn't change it, even the parts that really, really sucked. It doesn't seem right to try to make everything easier on her. I mean, me. You know, the other me. I can't try to take away the bad parts without destroying the person I am today. And I _like_ that person. After all this time, I really do." Her eyes were shining, and the strength and self-confidence in her made his heart ache. She had truly blossomed in the years they'd been apart, and in that moment he was unable to regret anything in his existence that led up to this moment.

"I like her too," he whispered, and she smiled gently before leaning over to kiss him.

"What about you?" she asked. "Anything you'd change, if you could?"

He shook his head in disbelief, the doubts returning. "I've done so many things I'm not proud of. How can I possibly not regret them?" He gave a bitter laugh. "You should just put the spell on me instead. Curse me with a soul here and now and get it over with. No more killing, and no perfect happiness either. Ow!"

Buffy had punched his shoulder, just hard enough to get his attention. "Oh, please. You think that's what's best? What's to say you wouldn't have gone all mopey and staked yourself? You still don't get it. You _fought_ for your soul, to become the man you are today, and that's what matters."

"What, so you're not sorry for the bad things you've done in the past?" he challenged. She shrugged.

"Of course I am. But you _be_ sorry, and then you move on and try to do better. God. Could I possibly sound more like a self-help book?"

It was as if her words had opened a door in his mind. He felt strangely unbound, in a way he hadn't since regaining his soul. Sure, he'd badgered Angel plenty of times about how pathetic it was to brood about the past, but this was the first time he'd had some hope that his own words might actually be true. With a lightened heart, he turned and gave her a filthy smirk.

"Then I guess it's time to start building some more good memories, Slayer." He was inordinately pleased when she shuddered and her nipples hardened beneath her shirt. He leaned forward, but before he could kiss her, he heard a rushing sound and caught a faint glow out of the corner of his eye. A portal had opened up, right above the spot on the floor that he'd been told lay above the opening of the Hellmouth. He checked his stopwatch. Right on time, more's the pity.

"Looks like my ride's here," he said, squeezing Buffy's hand. "You want to come along, or do you have your own way home?" She hesitated, then shook her head reluctantly.

"I told Giles I'd wait to say goodbye. Otherwise..."

"Why don't you say it now?" a harsh voice asked.

The two of them spun around to see Giles standing just inside the library doors, which were swinging shut as if he had just pushed through them. His eyes were cold.

"Giles," Buffy said, climbing off the table and self-consciously straightening her hair and shirt. "How long were you...?"

"Long enough," he said coldly. "Am I to understand that you are in possession of a spell that can resoul vampires?"

Buffy cringed slightly. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's not on me, or anything, but it can be done. But I really don't think...."

"You didn't think that might be useful information for me to have, given the danger we're currently facing?" he asked harshly.

"I couldn't," Buffy said firmly. "You know I can't. You're the one who gave me all the lectures about not changing the past."

"Except that it's apparently not really the past, is it? And frankly, my concern is for the Slayer I have a duty to protect. I'm sure your Watcher still feels the same way."

"Oh, lay off," Spike growled, and Giles fixed him with a glare. "Look, your Slayer will get through it all right. She's a survivor, and she's stronger than you think she is. She's here, isn't she? You think Angelus is enough to take her down? Please," he scoffed. "She's been through worse than you can possibly imagine, and came through it like a champion."

"Spike, don't," Buffy said quietly. Spike hesitated and subsided after one more angry look at Giles. Buffy sighed. "I know why you're doing this," she said to Giles. "You're my Watcher, and I wouldn't expect anything less. But you have to trust me on this one. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but you can't control the future any more than I can change the past."

Giles nodded reluctantly and gave a twisted smile. "It seems that, over the years, you've managed to retain some of my teaching after all."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Spike scoffed, and Buffy elbowed him before heading over to give Giles a hug. The portal was beginning to shrink a bit around the edges, and Spike knew that it wouldn't be long before it disappeared completely. Taking a last look around, he positioned himself in front of the temporal fissure and glanced back at Buffy.

"Sure you won't come with, Slayer? After all, you know you'll just end up in L.A. anyway. When have you ever been able to keep away from an apocalypse?" Pulling out the amulet, he dangled it from his hand temptingly. "And if you're a good girl, I just might let you wear the jewelry this time around." He smirked at her, and she laughed in return and walked up to him.

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I resist a free necklace?" she asked. He placed the amulet gently in her hand, and she smiled softly as she closed her fingers around it. Giles cleared his throat.

"I understand your reasoning. But if any harm comes to anyone from this time because of your actions or inactions here, I can assure you that I will not forget." He was staring at Spike the entire time he spoke, and Spike couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine. He had a sudden memory of Angelus coming back to the factory one night, teeth stained with blood, describing the dead woman he'd left displayed in the Watcher's bed. Had that happened yet, in this time? He didn't think so.

"Yeah, I'm sure you won't," Spike said gravely. The portal was beginning to close as he spoke, and it was too late to consider any more possible repercussions. The Watcher would just have to deal with it, and if he chose to hold a grudge....Spike thought despairingly of his chipped self lying helplessly chained in a tub, and forced himself back into the present.

Spike exchanged a glance with Buffy, who took his hand and squeezed it. Casting one final look back at the Watcher, he turned and stared into the fissure.

"Let's go home," Buffy said softly. Side by side they walked through the portal, and the dimensional door slammed shut behind them.


End file.
